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Authors: Kristina M. Rovison
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head from side to side, searching.
He gives my hand a squeeze before he releases it. After being hand-in-hand for so long, the cool air on my warm fingers feels wrong and unwelcome. I frown, but turn my face away so he won’t see it. I hear footsteps, Tristan’s, as he rounds the corner on the opposite side of the barn. I follow him, unsure of what to do.
“Here we go,” he says, grunting as he heaves a saddle off the wall. Instead of handing it to me, he slings it over his arm as he grabs a second one.
“Tristan, I wasn’t kidding about not knowing how to ride ,” I say in one last stitch effort to save myself from the embarrassment of potentially falling off a horse. My voice is laced with fear, and I feel it start to prickle up my body, from my toes to the tips of my hair.
Fear is one of the worst emotions I was forced to be overly subjected to. It makes my heart beat uncomfortably fast, and my hands shake. Not wanting Tristan to see my over-reaction, I put my hand to my forehead as I take deep breaths, warding off the encompassing feeling.
To my surprise, I feel a hand gras p my wrist lightly. Immediately the painful fear is gone, replaced with warmth that is lightening. I sigh, loudly. I open my eyes to find Tristan standing close to me, eyes filled with what looks like panic. I’m unsure what to think of this, but then he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them seconds later, the fear is gone.
“It’ll be alright, trust me. You’re probably a natural, being Rachel’s niece,” he says comfortingly. “If you really don’t want to, we can do something else. This is the best kind of therapy, though… trust me on this,” his eyes beg, tempting me.
Although I should say no, peer-pressure and all, I t rust him inexplicitly, so I nod.
“If you’re scared, we can share Dino. He’s really gentle, my favorite,” Tristan says, leading me out the back door of the empty barn. I wonder for the first time where the horses are.
There is a small room in the barn, separated from the stalls and bags of feed and hay barrels. It’s more like spare space, having no walls or door. But the tiny area isn’t bare; there’s a small couch, bed, and a desk by the large window, overlooking the hill we just climbed. The bed looks like the sheets are fresh, but perfectly neat, showing no signs of anyone sleeping in it. Curious… but, then again, Aunt Rachel seems like the type to have a plan-B for any rendezvous she might have.
We exit the barn through two large, open doors and into a beautiful green pasture. The sun glints off the red of the barn, making the color so bright it hurts my eyes. The grass waves in the ligh t breeze, in desperate need of cutting. The pasture isn’t large; the fence extending maybe three-hundred feet in all four directions, but the allure is not dimmed by the size. Perhaps I will one day get used to the beauty of this state’s country, but I hope it won’t be any day soon.
The breeze pushes my hair back from my neck, exposing its pale surface to the blazing sunlight. Emerging from the dark barn into this magnificent sunlight is like awakening from a nightmare, just more real.
Tristan watches my face as I take in the scenery, a small smile playing on his lips. I avert my gaze from the landscape and focus on the horses grazing in the pasture, looking shiny and strong in th eir element. The black one is the most stunning animal I have ever seen.
“The black one is Dino. Watch this,” Tristan says, releasing my hand and holding up the saddle. He jingles a bell that is hanging from the side of the leather patch on the side of the riding instrument, and Dino’s head snaps up instantly. He waits for a moment; Tristan jingles the bell again and Dino races towards the gate while the other horses continue with their snacking.
I laugh, unable to hold in the sound of elation. We run over to the gate and I
He gives my hand a squeeze before he releases it. After being hand-in-hand for so long, the cool air on my warm fingers feels wrong and unwelcome. I frown, but turn my face away so he won’t see it. I hear footsteps, Tristan’s, as he rounds the corner on the opposite side of the barn. I follow him, unsure of what to do.
“Here we go,” he says, grunting as he heaves a saddle off the wall. Instead of handing it to me, he slings it over his arm as he grabs a second one.
“Tristan, I wasn’t kidding about not knowing how to ride ,” I say in one last stitch effort to save myself from the embarrassment of potentially falling off a horse. My voice is laced with fear, and I feel it start to prickle up my body, from my toes to the tips of my hair.
Fear is one of the worst emotions I was forced to be overly subjected to. It makes my heart beat uncomfortably fast, and my hands shake. Not wanting Tristan to see my over-reaction, I put my hand to my forehead as I take deep breaths, warding off the encompassing feeling.
To my surprise, I feel a hand gras p my wrist lightly. Immediately the painful fear is gone, replaced with warmth that is lightening. I sigh, loudly. I open my eyes to find Tristan standing close to me, eyes filled with what looks like panic. I’m unsure what to think of this, but then he closes his eyes briefly and when he opens them seconds later, the fear is gone.
“It’ll be alright, trust me. You’re probably a natural, being Rachel’s niece,” he says comfortingly. “If you really don’t want to, we can do something else. This is the best kind of therapy, though… trust me on this,” his eyes beg, tempting me.
Although I should say no, peer-pressure and all, I t rust him inexplicitly, so I nod.
“If you’re scared, we can share Dino. He’s really gentle, my favorite,” Tristan says, leading me out the back door of the empty barn. I wonder for the first time where the horses are.
There is a small room in the barn, separated from the stalls and bags of feed and hay barrels. It’s more like spare space, having no walls or door. But the tiny area isn’t bare; there’s a small couch, bed, and a desk by the large window, overlooking the hill we just climbed. The bed looks like the sheets are fresh, but perfectly neat, showing no signs of anyone sleeping in it. Curious… but, then again, Aunt Rachel seems like the type to have a plan-B for any rendezvous she might have.
We exit the barn through two large, open doors and into a beautiful green pasture. The sun glints off the red of the barn, making the color so bright it hurts my eyes. The grass waves in the ligh t breeze, in desperate need of cutting. The pasture isn’t large; the fence extending maybe three-hundred feet in all four directions, but the allure is not dimmed by the size. Perhaps I will one day get used to the beauty of this state’s country, but I hope it won’t be any day soon.
The breeze pushes my hair back from my neck, exposing its pale surface to the blazing sunlight. Emerging from the dark barn into this magnificent sunlight is like awakening from a nightmare, just more real.
Tristan watches my face as I take in the scenery, a small smile playing on his lips. I avert my gaze from the landscape and focus on the horses grazing in the pasture, looking shiny and strong in th eir element. The black one is the most stunning animal I have ever seen.
“The black one is Dino. Watch this,” Tristan says, releasing my hand and holding up the saddle. He jingles a bell that is hanging from the side of the leather patch on the side of the riding instrument, and Dino’s head snaps up instantly. He waits for a moment; Tristan jingles the bell again and Dino races towards the gate while the other horses continue with their snacking.
I laugh, unable to hold in the sound of elation. We run over to the gate and I
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